


Candal Collection

by occasional_boy_reporter



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Other, Rated for Most Extreme Scenarios, Snapshots, Summaries and Warnings by Chapter, Unconnected Timelines, unconnected scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2018-12-01 11:51:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11485824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: A variety of short fics and musings centered around Cayde-6 and Andal Brask including everything from platonic bro fic to adult trash. Warnings included at the start of each chapter. Fic rating is set to max for general caution.I've seen the call for more of these dudes. Take this.





	1. Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> Rating- Teen for suggestive sexual themes
> 
> Sleepy, domestic fluff

 

   The room is dim, lights forgotten, when Andal drags himself out of bed and into the open living space in search of…something.

   Two bright points catch his eyes immediately. Too familiar to be frightening but still unexpected enough to make the Hunter Vanguard pause.

   “How…” thick brows do a wobbling dance over dark, half-open eyes as Andal points to the Exo occupying the arm of the well-worn couch in the Hunter Vanguard’s private room. Andal’s finger traces a path from the Exo to the very much locked door across the way and back as his sleep-fogged brain tries to put everything together.  “How…did you get in here?”

   Cayde chuckles, wrestles off his last boot, and discards it alongside the pre-existing pile of armored pieces and weapon belts cluttering the space to the right of his perch. The muffled thunk of a heel impacting the floor puts an action to the twin noise that roused Andal from sleep.

   “Transmatted in. Hope you don’t mind.”

   Andal scratches at his beard and yawns until his jaw pops instead of reminding Cayde how Transmatting’s not a thing that’s allowed in the Tower. A green, glowing blur atop the far desk tells the tale of why Cayde didn’t bother knocking.

   “It’s almost three in the morning,” Andal points out.

   The Exo abandons the last of his extraneous bits- hood, scarf, and cloak folded over the back of the couch- before bare feet carry him through the darkness. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

   A light stoke of a thumb against Andal’s neck serves as apology.

   “It’s ok.” Andal realizes rather suddenly Cayde is whispering to match his own drowsily hushed tone. “Hard to sleep when you’re away anyhow.”

   He leans into that hand on his neck until the thumb travels up to smooth the plane of his cheek. Now that Cayde is back, Andal could fall asleep right here, right now, standing upright, if that lulling caress continues against his face.

   “I missed you too," Cayde rumbles in amusement when Andal's face chases the Exo's withdrawing hand in semi-conscious pursuit. "Hey, think you can stay awake long enough for a present? I brought you that thing you like.”

   Andal jerks from sleep's hold and, after drawing on the strength of a deep breath, his eyes finally flutter open in anticipation. Cayde offers the space between his wide-open arms with a lit grin.

   "Better take it before it fades away."

   The Hunter Vanguard hums at that, lips curling up dreamily as he steps forward and Cayde’s arms catch him in a warm embrace. Andal’s fingers meet at a back, center seam and he drops his head to nuzzle against the smooth collar in front of him as he inhales his ‘gift.’ The leather of Cayde’s remaining attire smells like the sun beating down on Martian sands, the acrid tang of discharged bullets, and the recycled coolants that pump through the vents of a ship. He smells like adventure and battle won and a safe return. The only positive aspect of sending Cayde away for missions are these moments of vicarious living each time the Hunter returns. Andal savors the scent of the Wilds- the noise he makes scandalous by daytime standards- and places a grateful kiss to the underside of the heavy chin above him.

   "Thank you."

   Cayde’s responding hum is thick with proposition before he whispers into the mussed curls at Andal's temple. "Anytime."

   Bared metal hands sneak up beneath Andal’s oversized shirt and the drag of cool fingers has Andal sighing into the Exo’s collar. Andal _wants_. Stars above- how he wants! But that desire will not fade by tomorrow evening or -if their most valiant restraint fails- until they slink off for an early lunch with not a scrap of food between them. All assuming they make it out of bed in the morning, of course. For now, Andal wants to dream of open expanses with Cayde tucked safely against him.

   “Bed?” Andal ventures and immediately clarifies to counter the rumble in Cayde’s chest- “For sleep?”

   Metal fingers against skin slip easily from hungry to soothing.

   “For sleep,” Cayde agrees without question or complaint. But with just enough air of disappointment to make the human nestled against him laugh.

   Andal squeezes the Exo in his arms. “Welcome home, Cayde.”

 

 


	2. Cloaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EXPLICIT CHAPTER WARNING!  
> M/M and totally inappropriate use of stolen tech ahead!

 

   Cayde forces his hand to slow, then to stop cupped loosely around the hot, twitching length oozing precum against his bare fingers. There’s a protesting whine muffled by the glove clamped between desperately bared teeth and Cayde further stifles his partner by clamping his unoccupied hand urgently over the spit-soaked mess of leather and trembling lips. The haze of arousal clears almost immediately from Andal’s eyes as pupils constrict and brows pull into a furious, accusing glare just above Cayde’s hushing hand. Edging has its merits but not here….not in this seldom-used but unarguably public hallway…not even with Cayde’s latest iteration of cloaking tech hiding their impromptu tryst from immediate sight. Honestly, it’s _R &D’s_ latest iteration. Cade is just ‘borrowing’ the tech that _technically_ wouldn’t be possible without him. Borrowing and testing ‘real world applications.’

_Tock-chk! Tock-chk! Tock-chk!_

Andal finally hears it now- the echo of heavy heels and jostling armor that has given Cayde cause to halt- and his once murderous expression blows wide in panic. Slim fingers scramble to the metal ones tucked inside Andal’s partially opened fly but Cayde refuses to budge. Andal’s eyes flash from fright to fury and back again as he tries to squirm away and make them presentable before the owner of those heavy steps discover them.

   The human hisses something between a warning and an order behind the Exo’s hand but Cayde shakes his head mutely and leans forward instead- pinning Andal securely to the wall. Andal struggles, twists and bucks! They’re going to be found out! How did he let himself get talked into this in the first place?

   Andal squirms as he watches the corner and waits tensely for some unwitting Guardian to-

   The hand around Andal’s cock squeezes and he very nearly swallows his improvised gag.

   Cayde’s face is one hundred percent unrepentant.

   The Exo thumbs over the slick head in his hand and Andal collapses against the wall- thighs quaking and hips jerking harshly into the abrupt stimulation. He tries to glower, he really does, but the tight and purposeful glide of Cayde’s fist is literally making his knees weak.

   Beyond Cayde’s shoulder the white hall shimmers and warps like a heat mirage. The cloaking is still working but from this side the effect is subtle enough to cause real concern for what it may look like from the outside. Cayde may swear by the results but that doesn’t necessarily mean Andal trusts the portable generator clipped to the Exo’s belt. It is only a prototype, after all. If it doesn’t conceal…they’ll never live this down. Andal will never be able to set foot in the Tower’s R&D wing without melting in shame.

   There he is! The source of the steps finally rounds the corner and Andal nearly suffocates on the heart in his throat. He was wrong. It is not the fully-armored Titan he had built in his mind with horrid anticipation but simply one of the department’s many frames loaded down with a formidable crate in its metal arms.

   Frames aren't known to be the most perceptive beings when they're in the middle of a task.

  Andal never gets the chance to breathe a sigh of relative relief because the hand between his thighs suddenly picks up speed. Andal’s fingers dig harshly into Cayde’s waist but, between armor and poly and steel, he could never hurt the Exo enough to deter him. His deadliest glare doesn’t seem to be putting a dent in the smugness that surrounds Cayde either. The pace is brutal, pressure on just the right side of painful, and every time Andal’s eyes flick to the plodding Frame as it approaches, there’s an extra squeeze or twist that forces the human’s twitching gaze back to the Exo crowding him against the wall. Andal tries to swallow each labored breath as they twist in his throat and attempt to slip out as a whimper or pant. He isn’t entirely sure of his success as the blood rushing against his ears washes away much of his perception. The one thing he is sure of is that Cayde is not about to stop again.

   _The frame is right there!_ Close enough that Andal could reach out and brush the identifying sticker of the crate when Cayde burrows into the folds of Andal’s hood to nip at the shell of a flushed ear.

   “Come?” The Exo whispers.

    Andal does. Instantly and explosively to the tune of his own strangled wail- some poor imitation of a wounded animal. His jaw aches as he grinds down on the glove in his mouth and pulses warm and sticky spurts across shuffling fingers until there’s nothing left. He shudders before Cayde’s strokes turn gentle and ease him through the aftershocks.

   He breathes harshly through his nose and swears he can hear his inhales whistle over the receding thud against his eardrums. When he dares to open his eyes again, he locks them with the single ocular light of a very still Tower frame.

   Or...at least it appears so for a few tense seconds before the frame sweeps its head from side to side as it scopes the hall in confusion. Apparently, the visual aspect of Cayde’s cloaking device is quite effective. But sound…not so much.

   "Hello?" The frame asks in a polite stutter, "Is someone...here?"

   Cayde nuzzles silently against Andal's ear and the human plots out a hundred painful  revenge deaths in the tense seconds that follow. His chest burns from the strain of his forced, not-quite silent breaths.

   After one last halting survey of the ’empty’ space around it, the frame chirps a puzzled little note, and continues on its way.

   When the frame disappears down another corridor, Andal gulps down a breath like a drowning man finally breaching the waters' surface and Cayde's sopping glove just barely holds onto the corner of gasping lips. At last he feels capable of savoring the quiet after a moment of release and rests his head heavily against the shoulder of a tremendously amused Exo. He’s gone soft, satisfied, but Cayde continues to stroke idly until the very moment Andal forcefully extracts the hand playing in his pants.

   “So,” Cayde murmurs as he collects his glove from its new home caught between the valley of identically-clothed chests. He thumbs a little spittle from his left pec then pats the portable cloaking device on his own hip. “Think you could sign off on some more field tests? For the sake of thorough data?"

   Andal huffs a laugh and pushes away the Exo’s eager face. When Cayde pretends to stumble dramatically from the light force, Andal takes the opportunity to rest his heel against Cayde's ass and give it a guiding shove toward the R&D labs. “Take the thing back, brat.”

   The kick sends Cayde dancing out of proximity and Andal can feel the moment the cloaking field breaks away from him and snaps back to envelope just Cayde. The hairs on Andal's neck have barely settled from the sensation when he realizes...

   "Wow! That actually works."

   "Told you," comes the snickering reply from a barely shimmering space in the hall. 


	3. Skills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> general audiences

   Cayde whistles- high then low- as he leans just far enough away from the wall to eye the paper target at the far end of the Tower's shooting range.

   “Not bad for a man who hasn’t had dirt on his boots in over a year.”

   “Well,” Andal shrugs as he eyes the neat cluster of holes, “I guess you can take a Hunter out of the wild but you can’t take the hunt out of a Hunter.”

   Six more bullets click softly into the barrel of his favored piece as Andal prepares for another round. It’s a familiar sound- easy and comforting and nothing at all like the harsh metal _chk_ of a full cylinder being loaded in the heat of battle – but, nostalgia or not, Cayde’s not about to let his friend get away with saying something like _THAT!_

“Take the hunt out of…did you just make that up?” Cayde demands and adds a lazy, wagging finger to underline the fact he’s totally disappointed in his best friend.

   “Yeah. Guess I did.” The human shoots his spectator an unabashed grin. “Did you like that?”

   Andal seals the chamber and brings the handcannon up to eye level.

   Traveller above! The poor man doesn’t even realize what’s happened.

   Before a single shot can fire, Cayde slams on the breaks with waving hands. “No. No, no, no. Andal? Andal, buddy, friend, pal, compadre-“

   Dark eyes level the Exo with a dead stare and the human eases out of his firing stance in response to Cayde’s tone. It’s a very iconic ‘strap yourself in’ kind of tone.

   “ _That_ ,” Cayde asserts, “was the most disgustingly Zavala-esque turn of phrase I’ve ever heard come out of a mouth that wasn’t blue. This place is killing your cool, Andal.”

   “Killing my cool?”

   “You heard me. Welcome to Lameville on the border of Snoozetown and Dad Joke Junction.”

   Andal winces with narrowed eyes and bared teeth before he raises a brow and shrugs a single shoulder. “You really think so? Lameville?”

   "Sorry, man, but abso-"

   Six shots bark out without warning as Andal unloads his weapon with the barest glimpse to the far end of the range. Andal reloads with a seeming swipe of his hand, tosses the gun in a twirling arc, spins and catches the handcannon with his secondary hand, and unloads six more shots without ever taking his eyes off Cayde.  The Exo is still resetting his optics when Andal holsters his weapon casually and heads for the exit with a sour grumble of ‘Dad Joke Junction?’

   Cayde takes a peek toward the bullet trap. Only the head of the paper target remains- the bottom severed by impeccably-placed shots- and the head now sports a few extra holes in the shape of a frowning face. The Exo almost trips over himself in his haste to catch up with his friend.

   “What the hell!” Cayde shouts. “How many times have you practiced that?”

   Andal shrugs again. “What else am I supposed to do between inventing lame aphorisms?”


	4. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rated mature, hurt/comfort piece  
> contains allusions to sex, non-sexually compatible Exo anatomy, body dysphoria, breakdown/anxiety/feelings of inadequacy

      He knows the very moment Cayde is thinking about it. He can feel it in the possessive grip around his bare thigh that tightens just shy of the point of pain, in the hand tangled desperately in his hair, and in the way Cayde’s face digs into the juncture of a sweaty neck and shoulder. He can hear it when Cayde’s self-inflicted, choking silence cracks in a broken keen that twists Andal’s heart.

   “Shh,” Andal soothes with a sweep of his hands along the Exo’s back. He rubs his foot along a metal calf and gathers Cayde to his chest, pulling the Exo down to lie fully atop him. “Shhh.”

   Cayde doesn’t say anything, just shudders with the weight of unspoken longing.

   Even on nights like this, when Andal is squirming and sighing the Exo’s name as metal fingers dance and drag and sink inside him, Cayde sometimes gets lost in his own mind and in the memories of being flesh and blood. It’s usually kissing that triggers the downward spiral of doubt and inadequacy. Such a human thing- kissing. The soft bloom of lips, the hot swipe of a tongue are things Cayde can no longer offer and Andal knows how much worry and regret it breeds in his lover when Andal tries to worship a metal frame with his own kisses.

   But it is not Cayde’s fault that his frame is one built exclusively for war. Andal does not see the absence of soft skin or even sexual organs as a fault beyond the way a lack of those traits unfairly reduce Cayde to the shaking, anxious ghost of his usual self.

   “You are everything I need,” Andal assures with a whisper and a fierce embrace. “I chose you. All of you. I always will, Cayde.”

    He lavishes affection along the plates of Cayde’s back, over an external spine, into the cracks between armor- all of the things that might make some forget that Cayde is _human_ where it matters most.

   “I love you. So damn much.” Andal cradles the curved metal at the back of Cayde’s head and presses his cheek into Cayde’s as he silently begs for his love to remember he is more than steel and pistons. So much more than a weapon. "I love you."

   Full-body quakes ease into fine tremors and then finally into occasional, almost hiccuping aftershocks accompanied by muted bursts of static. The grip on Andal’s thigh gradually slackens. Metal fingers stroke a tender scalp in apology. Experience has shown it will be some time before Cayde can speak again but there is no rush, no pressure. Andal shuffles them carefully to lie on their sides where he can continue to pet and praise the strong frame that keeps his love and dearest friend safe while he murmurs an endless stream of endearments.

   "You are perfect. Comfort and joy and the brightest spot in my life. I love you more than anything or anyone I've ever loved."

   And Andal will continue to say it until Cayde realizes it as well.


	5. Totems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Gen

 

_Phweeet!_

There’s too much noise. Too many bodies filling the dirt lanes and raising a ruckus during the cooler evening hours. Too many shops and stalls full of things both useful and superfluous. Too many old men lingering on porches and cloistered around games of chance. Far too many distractions in every direction. He should have expected this to happen.

   It takes a moment but he finds his target several yards behind standing just on the edge of the main thoroughfare. Exactly when the rookie made his quiet getaway is hard to tell. A real sneaky one, that Exo. Andal presses his forefinger and thumb past his lower lip and whistles again.

   _PHWEEEET!_

That does it. Twin bulbs finally turn his way, shining bright behind blue glass. The makeshift hood slips off the Exo’s head- it’s too big but so is every other borrowed or scavenged article covering the blue and silver frame. New gear moves a little higher on Andal's list of priorities but there is a contact to meet first and foremost. Andal waves his wayward charge over and pats at his thigh to remind the curious young Risen of his promise to stay glued to Andal’s hip while they’re in civilization. The Exo, however, makes no move to rejoin his mentor.

   “Cayde, come on!” Andal shouts over the river of settlers between them. “We’ve got an appointment to make.”

   The Exo pauses, visually at odds with himself, before turning from Andal and back to whatever has lured Cayde away _this time_. Andal sighs and squirms through the crowd for a physical retrieval.

   “Cayde,” Andal squeezes his charge’s shoulder to grab his attention, “Let's move. I promise I’ll show you around when we’re done.”

   Backlit blues grace Andal with recognition but the Exo holds up a single hand to ask Andal to wait. A stern negative rolls to the tip of his tongue but when Andal looks at Cayde, actually looks, he doesn’t see the Exo he's grown to know in their brief weeks of association. Gone is the Exo of witty quips and rising confidence. This Exo is the scratched and dirty wretch of a creature Andal found sneaking around abandoned Fallen camps with nothing but a sharpened pipe and a deep air of fear. This is Cayde lost. Andal follows the Exo’s trancelike gaze to the two little boys sprawled on the dusty stoop of a repair shop. A tattered deck of playing cards is divided between filthy hands and a haphazard discard pile.

   “Those cards…”

   It’s the tone that makes Andal swallow his order to move on.

   “What about the cards?” Andal prompts in a whisper to match Cayde’s. For a moment, he is there with Cayde. Not in a bustling street of the largest settlement outside the growing city under the Traveler but on the cusp of some allusive revelation of the past. It’s a state all Risen know with an intimate frustration. These cards hold a memory- a remnant of Cayde from before. Or at least some vague sense of who he was. “Are they a good thing?”

   The silence that follows is heavy with consideration. Cayde finally grunts, the shifting plates of his brow pulled low in distress.

   “Yes. No. I…can’t remember. But I think it’s both.”

   “Congratulations." Andal pats a curled shoulder. "Sounds like it’s a sticker.”

   “Sticker?”

   “An inkling that’s gonna stick around,” Andal explains. “Something you might even remember over time.”

   “Do we do that?” Cayde murmurs in wonder. “Remember things?”

   “Some do.”

   “Do you?”

   Andal is not prepared for that question.

   “No,” the man admits with no small regret. “At least, not yet. But you have a strong response to those cards.”

   “Is that…something I even want? Are zombies supposed to know who they were or am I supposed to forget there was ever anything else?”

   Andal can’t begin to answer those questions. Especially when such soulful expectation is directed at him. Remembering is different for every Risen. Some find peace in the past. Some find things they wish to escape. Some never recover even a hint of who they were. But when Cayde’s uncertain gaze drifts back to the dog-eared deck, Andal makes a decision and pulls his purse from his belt. To a couple of twelve-year-olds, they are just paper amusements. To Cayde, those cards could be so much more.

   “Hey, boys.” Andal nods to the dusty children. “How much you want for those old cards?” **** ~~~~


	6. Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated mature for somewhat descriptive sex, implied trauma/abuse

   He can’t get enough of the man like this.

   Overly warm skin of flushed cheeks and brow ping heat receptors in Cayde’s face as Andal kisses him over and over. Cayde does his best to keep up but, even if he were graced with more human lips or a dexterous tongue, he doubts he’d be able to match Andal’s fervor in these moments. The kisses are sloppy, lips dragging, with the occasional huff of damp heat tickling across Cayde’s sensors when the human is forced to breathe. Andal’s in that half delirious state- floating somewhere between the toasty aura of satisfaction that comes from the sheer amounts of affection passing between the two but ever inching toward a more physically desperate need.

   A need Cayde would satisfy in a hammering beat of Andal’s heart. If the human would only allow it. Cayde has personally seen little use in celibacy but the practice is not unfamiliar to Guardians. Some adopt it as a religious thing- a sign of devotion to the Traveler. Though Cayde doesn’t understand why people would get raised from the dead with all their sexual bits and bobs intact if the Traveler wasn’t cool with them being used. But the majority of Guardians with self-imposed chastity rules are the ones like Andal. They are the ones who’ve been hurt too many times. They are the ones who’ve outlived mortal lovers, those that have watched Guardian partners lost to Darkness, those that have experienced unspeakable physical abuses from others who think the body of a Risen is less sacred than mortal flesh and bone just because it can be reformed. Cayde knows Andal has suffered a little of all three and that is why even now, while the man crashes against him with starving lips, mechanical hands never drift any higher than just above clothed knees and never lower than a prominent collar bone.

   This is Cayde’s test of devotion but it’s got nothing to do with a dormant god. Every swollen kiss, every shudder of shoulders, every arch of a spine, is a taste of what could be and Cayde must refuse to give chase. Only Andal can say when he’s ready for more so Cayde waits. Not that where they are now is bad. Andal has brought them a long way from some skittish handholding and Cayde has enjoyed each new morsel of intimacy Andal dishes out. But it’d be a bold-faced lie to say Cayde doesn’t scent the salt of Andal’s sweat or bask in radiating body heat or even catch sight of the uncomfortably tented fly of the man’s pants and just think…

_Same._

Followed by some impressively vivid fantasizing.

Still there is an immense pleasure in the way Andal grinds against Cayde’s thigh as he rains increasingly uncoordinated kisses about the Exo’s face. Cayde thinks back to the moment he earned enough trust to help Andal straddle him like this. It was difficult having a lap full of gorgeous, tan skin and sleek muscle and not being able to touch. But now…now Andal is crumbling, abandoning kisses to gasp at the ceiling. Slim hands grab Cayde’s own and escort them up and up the inside of Andal’s legs and until he’s cupping a generous palm full of taught muscled thighs. If Cayde had lungs, they’d be seizing in a fit of pleasant shock. This is new! This is delicious progress! Then those beautiful hands squeeze atop Cayde’s and the Exo groans the same moment Andal does.

   Andal’s eyes are closed. They always are. One day Cayde hopes to earn that as well- to have Andal’s eyes on him so that the human can understand exactly what he does to Cayde without even having to touch him. Andal hits his peak with a throaty sob and Cayde’s eyes snap down to the wet spot as it spreads along the crotch of soft cotton pants. He wants to trail is fingers over it, to feel the last twitching spurts hit the pads of his fingers, to take Andal in hand and feel him go soft as satisfaction gives way to exhaustion. But Cayde’s reach is still several inches shy of the tantalizing wetness so he instead satisfies himself with an appreciative squeeze of his newfound territory before dipping in to nuzzle the slick column of a burning neck in gratitude.


	7. All's Fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine our boys chillin in comfy clothes and just hanging out on Andal's couch. :3
> 
> Rated G for 'good God there's some silliness here'

 

   It's an accident. It’s just a harmless bump- light contact against his ankle that makes Andal twitch away as his guest shuffles under their shared blanket. It wouldn’t be quiet time with Cayde without endless movement, after all. Andal doesn’t look up from his book as he rearranges his own legs in a dance as old as time trying to find a comfortable resting place entwined with the long lines of Cayde’s metal limbs. A shuffle here, a stretch there, and the two settle without a word. If he’s lucky, the peace might last until the end of chapter eighteen. Heaven knows why it’s taken him this long to read _Treasure Island_ \- it’s one of Cayde’s favorites- but now Andal is _invested_ in the tale _._

   Cayde shifts again. This time squared toes brush over the arch of Andal’s foot and the man flinches from the unintended tickle before drawing the foot out of Cayde’s way. Maybe the sofa in Andal’s Vanguard suite is too small for the both of them to be stretched out on each end. Andal shimmies a bit closer to his arm of the couch, pulls the blanket spread between them back up to his knees, and turns the page of his paper adventure.

   Less than five seconds later, mutiny and treasure hunts are interrupted by a shiver that runs up his spine and all the way back down his leg where warm fingers have taken to tapping up his calf. The taps are far too rhythmic to pass for an accident this time. Andal spares a glance for the far side of the couch. Cayde is somehow minus the data pad that was keeping him occupied when they first snuggled down. Blue lights are bright with humor beneath a cream-colored brow just before robotic fingers fly into action.

   “Cayde, NO!”

   Andal kicks out at the Exo’s hand, upsetting the blanket and fumbling the book- nearly losing his place! He’s laughing despite all that. But only because Cayde has snagged a socked foot beneath the roiling blanket and is teasing the sensitive flesh mercilessly while Andal squirms and gasps.

   “Cayde! Cayde, no! Please-“ Paperback abandoned to thud against the floor, Andal thrusts both hands beneath the blanket to combat the tickling sneak attack.

   The Exo’s laugh bounces off the walls, boisterous and evil all at once. Andal rescues his foot with a harsh jerk and prying hands and whisks it out of enemy territory before launching a counterattack. He slips past Cayde’s defenses while the Exo is still shaken by the speed of Andal’s rally and goes straight for the back of Cayde’s knee. The Exo’s face flares in panic and he makes a move to grab Andal’s hands but it’s too late. Human fingers slip up a baggy pant leg and prod at the spongy, synthetic ‘skin’ between armored plating and sensors trip in an avalanche of confusing signals that set off squiggles of white noise in the Exo’s brain.

   “AH! Uncle!”

   “Nuh uh! No mercy,” Andal chides as he deflects a flailing foot and aims for an exposed patch at the base of the Exo’s spine. "Don’t start a war you can’t finish."

  “I’m sorry. Uncle! Uncle!” Cayde pleads for ceasefire even as he finds a particularly vulnerable spot on Andal’s neck that makes the human choke on a laugh as he tries to block access by smashing his chin to his shoulder.

   The two writhe and protest but continue to attack ruthlessly until the combined jumble of Hunters falls off the couch to join _Treasure Island_ on the floor with a deafening thud followed by peals of squealing laughter and static-laced snorts. Two Ghosts manifest at their Guardian's calls for reinforcements and are left to hover and observe with matching sighs.

 

 


	8. Warspawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G+ ???  
> racism, squicky mentions of a dead animal

   “Eerie, aren’t they?”

   Andal blinks at his hand wrapped loosely around an apple before glancing up, over the mound of produce, and into the unflinching gaze of the stall owner. “Come again?”

   The merchant smirks, the barest flicker at the corner of his mouth and cold humor reflected in dark eyes. Andal instantly regrets asking. The expression makes the Hunter’s stomach turn even before he follows the other man’s rounded chin as it nods behind Andal where he knows Cayde is poking around a similar pop-up stall displaying wild game.

   “The Warspawn,” the merchant clarifies without even the feigned decency to whisper the slur. “All empty heads and dead eyes. Nothing but murderers and degenerates wrapped in scrap metal. We’d all be safer if they never came back on after the Collapse. Don’t you think so?”

   Andal exhales carefully. He isn’t wearing his usual garb; no leather armor, no hooded cloak, no weapons, nothing that would mark him as a Guardian. But as a Vanguard, he is still obligated to conduct himself with poise and consideration when in the City. If he were dealing with a fellow Guardian in the field, the broad-faced slime would already have a warning bullet buried in the dirt at his feet.

   “There ought to be a law that keeps them from mingling with decent folks.”

   Copper tang floods his mouth when Andal’s teeth clamp a little too harshly on the inside of his lips. He swallows and tries to offer a level smile. “But then who would run the shoe shop on the corner, or the primary school in Midtown? What would happen during a fire with half of the emergency responders missing?”

   The cold smirk turns to a heated grimace and the man opens his mouth to speak but Andal’s not quite done.

   “Who would keep the mills going? The farmlands tilled? The street lamps on? City transportation running? Hospitals open during epidemics? _Exos_ are laborers and civil servants and scientists and Guardians who protect your miserable life whether you treat them with respect or not!”

   “Brask.”

   It takes him a moment to tear his heated glare away from the merchant but it at least grants him the pleasure of seeing the man’s eyes blow wide the second Cayde appears to end the conversation with a metal hand cupped over Andal’s. The Exo gently pries the apple out of the Hunter Vanguard’s grip and places it atop the highest tier of fruit- crescent shapes of Andal’s blunt nails mar the shiny, red skin.

   Cayde laces his steady fingers with the human’s shaking ones and leads him away insistently.

   “I wasn’t finished with him,” Andal spits before they’re even properly out of earshot.

   “Yeah you were.”

   “Did you hear what he called you?”

   Cayde shrugs it off with a single shoulder as he maneuvers the two of them through the early morning market crowd as quickly as possible without blinking through the street. “Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

   The statement doesn’t stop the furious slam of Andal’s heart. “That doesn’t make it right! Someone ought to teach that man a lesson.”

   Cayde’s chuckle drifts back just as they take a sudden turn down a side street. “Andal Brask! I’ve never heard you so…vengeful. I’m flattered. Really. But don’t worry about the lesson. I crammed a dead squirrel between the melons. He won’t be able to sell anything after a couple hours under the sun.”

   Andal gapes at his best friend’s back before a snort escapes him. "Cayde! Oh, Cayde, no!"

   "Oh, Cayde, yes!" He counters with beautiful, bright eyes and a glowing smirk.

   "Cayde, no!" Andal is already struggling to match Cayde's increased pace as a fit of chuckles overcome him.

   Soon, Exo and human laughter echo heartily off the alley walls as they flee the scene.

 

 


	9. Matchmaker 0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G-  
> featuring: pre-Vanguard Andal, pre-Vanguard Cayde, human Tevis, a bunch of Hunters that don't really matter, middle school-esque crushes

   Tevis scrapes a stubborn hunk of Venusian mud from his left boot using the toe of his right and almost looses his balance. Even as he throws his elbows out to counter, a leather-clad glove strikes out and grabs him by the thick belt circling his waist and pulls him back until he finds a more stable position.

   “Careful,” Andal warns without even looking away from the Vex conflux he’s hacking. He releases Tevis’ belt and gestures to the weathered stone that drops away steeply just behind the Nightsalker’s heels and goes on for stomach-dropping stories. “One misstep and you’ll be waiting for one of the others to rez you. Or you’ll break all your bones on the way down and be screaming for a mercy bullet and THEN a rez.”

   “Damn, Boss,” Tevis snorts against the inside of his helmet, “you’re scary when you care.”

   “Yeah, well, I bet you’ll be watching your feet now, won’t you?”

   Despite not wanting to instantly prove Andal right, Tevis does double check the available space around his boots. It would be a heck of a fall down level after level of stacked white stone and rocky cliffs. The rest of Andal’s pack are dotted around the area keeping watch but it would take any one of them a few minutes to scrape Tevis off the ground  “Why is Vex nonsense always so vertical?”

   Andal shrugs as he goes back to the mobile encryption device balanced in one hand. A frown is hidden by glossy black visor and helm but it comes through in the distracted mutter as the Hunter follows the progress of the tracking virus he’s trying to plant in the Vex network while his Ghost hovers overhead fighting back firewalls and throwing the Vex Minds off their trail. “They teleport. What do they care if everyone else has to take the stairs?”

   Tevis snorts again, though in amusement this time. Caring, competent, and a smooth joker- what’s not to be enamored with? It also doesn’t hurt that Andal Brask has a rather handsome face under that helmet. Small wonder Andal’s pack loves him. Which prompts the question that’s been wiggling all over the back of Tevis’ mind since Andal motioned for the red-head to join him at this ridiculously elevated construct.

   “Why am I here? Shouldn’t one of your usual guys be watching your back?”

   Andal grunts when his device flashes an obviously unpleasant error warning and gloved fingers fly across keys trying to reestablish a connection. “You’re the only Nightstalker I know. If trouble shows up, I want your tether slowing down the enemy long enough for everyone else to get up here and save our butts.”

   “Ok. Fair enough. But wouldn’t you be just about as safe with a Bladedancer up here?”

   “What’s wrong, Tevis? You don’t enjoy my company?” Andal’s quip turns to a growl when he’s forced out of the network again.

    “You’re absolutely repulsive,” Tevis confirms with zero conviction. “But seriously. I’m just saying Cayde’s had his scope trained on us this whole time instead of watching that southern passage like you ordered him too.”

   Andal’s visor turns sharply to the vegetation-covered hillside where they left Cayde stationed. The red blip of an engaged sniper scope is just barely visible among the greenery. After being turned in the Exo’s direction long enough, Cayde must catch on that he’s been spotted because the light vanishes- presumably as Cayde retrains South. “Damnit, Cayde.”

   “Seems like he’d really rather be the one up here watching your back.”

   A sigh whispers past Brask’s respirator. “Cayde gets…protective.”

   “Is he protecting you from the Vex or from me.”

   Andal shakes his head in exasperation and taps his device impatiently. “Cayde knows I trust you.”

   “Maybe. But I’m not so sure that’s the same as him trusting me.”

   “He let you take over after his watch last night, didn’t he? He trusts you.”

   “Andal, I don’t think you’re hearing what I’m saying. Kid’s worried I’m going to make a move.”

   “Make a move?” The pack leader mumbles absently. “What kind of move?”

   Tevis cannot help the laugh that hurts his own ears with its sudden volume bouncing back at him. “A move on you, you numbskull! Cayde wants to knock boots with ya. Test the tumble on your sparrow. Kid's got it bad.”

   “…oh.”

   “I drop a bomb like that and ‘oh’ is the best you got or me?”

   “I’m busy!” Andal grits out just seconds before he’s stricken with double error messages. “Besides…I already know.”

  “You…what?”

   “I already know,” Andal reiterates with a smothered huff and furious mash of fingers to keys. “Cayde’s never been as subtle as he thinks he is.”

   “And?”

   “And what?”

   “You’re killing me, Brask. Aaaand what do you plan to do about it?”

   “About Cayde? Nothing. Ignore him. Wait for the infatuation to go away.”

   Tevis gets the overwhelming sense this is not Andal’s first time letting a crush wither and die.

   “He’s part of the pack,” Andal continues softly. “Would be a bad idea.”

   “So…you’ve thought about it.”

   “…No.”

   “There’s a bold-faced lie if I ever heard one. Andal Brask, I believe you might be a tad sweet on Cayde-6.”

   “This conversation is entirely inappropriate. We’re not discussing it further. That’s an order.”

   Tevis hums, intrigued by the sudden wall of authority. “Yes, sir. Though that’s pretty weak as far as denials go.”

   “It’s none of your business!” Andal finally snaps the same moment his Ghost calls out in alarm.

   “They’re onto us. Vex incoming!”

   Tevis levels his pulserifle at the nearest cloud of condensing matter on the left. Andal disconnects the encryption device with a harsh jerk and almost simultaneously sinks a handcannon round into the juicebox of the first fully-formed Goblin on the right. A sniper round screams high over the Hunters’ heads and takes out a Hobgoblin raising its weapon before metal feet even settle on the ground.

   Tevis laughs. Cayde is on it way before the other members of the pack catch on and start adding their fire to the fray.

   “Where’s that tether?” Andal demands as the air crackles with the charge of more teleports.

   “Coming right up,” Tevis promises. He can feel something brewing in front of them, a distortion so strong it makes his mustache twitch under his helmet. The moment a Vex Hydra finally appears in a hole between space and time, the Nightstalker calls to the Void, leaps into the air, and lets his arrow fly.

   “Ok,” Tevis grunts when he lands and aims for the restricted cluster of Vex, “but what if Cayde made the first move?”

   “Now is not the time, Tevis!”

   Ok. Fair enough. But there's always later.

 

 


	10. Matchmaker 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T- for drunken Hunters, barely there swears,  
> featuring: pre-Vanguard Andal, pre-Vanguard Cayde, human Tevis, a bunch of Hunters I named that don't really matter, middle school-esque crushes

   Tevis doesn’t so much sit. It’s a bit more like a squat that gives up and allows gravity to take its course in slow motion: a right proper plop against an already occupied chunk of concrete. The impact forces a grunt from the man and his shoulder bounces roughly against Cayde’s. Cayde shrugs the Nightstalker out of his personal space before the man has even fully settled but it’s more habit than maliciousness. Not that it matters. Tevis leans back in and gets downright cozy pressed tightly against leather armor. He slings an arm around the Exo’s shoulder in anticipation of an escape but, this time, Cayde doesn’t fight it. The circle of their camp is too small to be inconspicuously evasive tonight. And if he moves, Cayde will lose his perfect line of sight on that flushed and smiling face across the campfire.

   It takes the human a minute to lay it on him this time and Cayde can feel the wheels of thought turning- almost as if Tevis is considering foregoing their ritualistic conversation. But in the end, Tevis angles a tired sigh at audial receptors and it’s just quiet enough not to alert the ever-nosy Jemina-8 who’s poking at the fire or the loose-limbed cluster of Spuds, Theo, and Leria who are close enough to kick but already too far out of their minds to feel it if you did. “Cayde, are you ever going make a move or am I going die of old age first?”

   Glowing blue eyes fix the pale human with The Usual Look that comes with The Usual Conversation.

   “You’re drunk,” Cayde mutters in non-answer.

   The responding sigh is strong enough to stir the fabric of Cayde’s hood.

   “We all are,” Tevis’ quirking smile makes the edge of a ginger mustache twitch above a matching beard. “All but you, Cayde.”

   The Nightstalker taps his nearly empty long-neck against Cayde’s still capped one.

   “Now, I know Exos metabolize it slower but you’re not even trying! Makes me think maybe you’re aiming to keep a level head. Preparing for a momentous confession maybe?”

   There’s no use trying to fool Tevis into thinking Cayde’s not staring across the open flames to watch dark lips wrap around the mouth of a bottle each time Andal takes a break from his conversation to take a swig. Cayde looks away all the same. “You know he asks you to come along for your support abilities, right? Not to play matchmaker?”

   Tevis nods at a gentle speed so as not to disturb his booze-logged brain. “And when I’m on duty you all can have my bow for as long as there’s Light. But there ain’t no mission now so I better keep to the matchmaking so I've got something to keep myself out of trouble.”

   Cayde shakes his head in fond contrariness. “Tevis, you reek of trouble. Especially when you’re matchmaking.”

   The return jibe comes easily. “And you smell like the back end of an Ogre.”

   “Says the man who smells like scorched Vex milk.”

   “Ah, but coming from an Exo that smells like…” Tevis blinks and stares into the flames for a long moment of consideration before conceding defeat, “I don’t know. I’m too drunk for this shit right now. Something to do with the four armpits on a Fallen Captain.”

   Cayde chuckles quietly. “That’ll be a good one. Work on that and save it for later.”

    The bearded man hums then inhales sleepily before muttering. “How are you supposed to get what you want if you don’t tell him?”

   “Tevis,” Cayde rolls bright eyes in annoyance.

   “He doesn’t read minds.” The human objects as he leans heavily into Cayde’s shoulder. He tries to gesture to Andal across the way who’s still deep in conversation with Byron- who’s being quite boisterous enough to hold Andal’s attention even if Tevis had shouted Brask's name- but Cayde forces the hand down as soon as it rises. "Maybe he just needs you to spell things out a little."

   “Forget it,” Cayde demands with a steely stare. “It isn’t important.”

   “Not important!”

   Jemina’s yellow optics flick in their direction. Cayde pinches the thigh butting against his own and holds the flesh harshly until Tevis whispers a pained apology for drawing attention. The Exo releases his grip. Tevis rubs the abused skin. They sit silently long enough for the female Exo to lose interest and go back to stirring up sparks in the campfire. The second she does, Tevis’ face is practically inside Cayde’s hood to continue their conversation in a heated whisper.

   “I swear to the Traveller, Cayde. I once watched you dance under the feet of an Archon just for the fun of it and here you are scared by a little handful of words.”

   This time Cayde is the one to force out a hot huff of air. A broad nose wrinkles in annoyance when Cayde shoves his sealed drink into Tevis’ hands.

   “I’m gonna go walk the perimeter.”

   Tevis groans. “Aww, come on. You’re killing me, kid.”

   The Exo shrugs it off mutely as he rises from the shared concrete slab and Tevis sags a little without the other Hunter to prop him up. The Nightstalker is pretty sure the rifle Cayde slings over his shoulder doesn’t even belong to him but the Gunslinger has slipped from the circle of their communal fire before Tevis can point that out. It isn’t long before the Exo’s silhouette and the glow of his eyes are gone behind some crumbling stone and steel. The area is beyond clear- absolutely abandoned- so Cayde’s not in any danger aside from whatever complex emotions are swirling in that metal head and Tevis, being presently drunker than a skunk, isn’t about to go crashing through pitch black city ruins in pursuit of a man who clearly doesn’t want to follow sound advice.

   A minor dizzy spell settles over Tevis and he scoots to the edge of his seat before carefully slipping off and lowering himself to the ground so that the pockmarked slab serves as a rest for his heavy head. Across the way Andal pauses his animated conversation and squints into the dark space beyond Tevis’ head. Cayde's been gone less than ten seconds but Andal has definitely noticed. And the tiny divot between his eyes means he's definitely concerned. The Nightstalker presses his tongue to the back of his teeth to control his grin as he watches Andal quietly excuse himself, and before Byron has even waved off the apology, Andal is not quite- but very nearly- jogging past Tevis and his concrete lounge. The rest of the party follow their leader’s sudden departure quizzically but, when all eyes eventually settle on Tevis for answers, Tevis pops the cap off Cayde’s abandoned drink using the sharp corner of an armored knee and simply shrugs.

   “None of our business,” Tevis assures with a broad grin.

 


	11. Home Sweet Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear.  
> READ THE WARNINGS! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!!!!
> 
> EXPLICIT! CHAPTER! WARNING!
> 
> intersex (dual-sexed) Cayde, inappropriate use of Light, marathon sex, non-private sex, pre-Vanguard timeline, pre Tower construction

   Three solid knocks from the other side of the wall send dust motes drifting through the air to catch the weak, yellow wash of the overhead light. Cayde couldn’t give a Psion’s flat ass what the neighbors think and, on Andal’s next slow thrust, the Exo moans a little louder than strictly called for.

   “Cayde,” the human warns breathlessly as he squeezes the hand wrapped around the back of a metal neck. But he chokes a little when Cayde drives his pelvis up to smother Andal within searing, wet walls.

   While the voice of reason is temporarily silenced by a shuddering gasp, the Exo claps his hands on tan cheeks- just enough to make Andal flinch from the sting.  Cayde kneads the meat of Andal’s ass, cushioned by just the faintest spring of fat, and helps the man rock forward as exhaustion finally steals the last of Andal’s momentum.

   “Cayde,” Andal shakes his head but it’s more of a sad roll by this point, “Cayde, love, I can’t.”

   “Yes, you can.”  Cayde cups the back of Andal’s head, fingers sliding through limp curls, to bring the man closer. He nuzzles against a wet temple and paints idle designs in the sticky mess coating Andal’s belly- evidence of the last few hours- as he continues to buck into Andal’s non-existant thrusts. “I believe in you.”

   A worn laugh tickles the sensors in the corner of Cayde’s eye but, even with Light flowing between them and bolstering recovery times, there are physical limitations and Andal has finally found his. Cayde carefully unhooks his leg from its place over Andal’s shoulder and eases up from his back, settles both his legs over rubbery thighs. Cayde rises and manages to sit in Andal’s lap without allowing the half-hard cock to slip from the burning, slick slit between the Exo’s legs. There’s exasperation written in the falling line of Andal’s grin but there’s still a twinkle of amusement in his eyes when Cayde pushes a sweat-slicked shoulder until Andal falls back with an exhausted huff that rivals the exhale of the cheap mattress. The impact sends more fuzzy particles floating through the gloom.

   “Mercy?” Andal pants in good humor.

   Cayde pats a reddened cheek with one hand as the other reaches back and wraps around spent and abused flesh. Andal tries to muffle a groan against his own shoulder when the familiar tickle of Cayde’s Light forces the human’s cock to rise again in a hollow sense of recovery that doesn’t spread through the rest of Andal.

   “Mercy?" Stuttering breaths echo throughout the room until Cayde brushes his mouth against babbling lips. Andal obliges the Exo with sloppy kisses between desperate pulls of air and one spectacular moan when Cayde sinks all the way back down on Andal’s rigid sex. “Mercy!”

   A fresh batch of motes rain down to the tune of furious thumps from the other side of the apartment wall.

   Andal chokes on another groan as Cayde rises and sinks back down with the barest increase in speed. Knees are already shaking again. Andal latches onto the dull edges of smooth chest plates and he curls into the Exo with a gasp. “Please. He’s going to come over again.”

   “We’ve got to move you out of this shitty apartment,” Cayde growls as he grinds down to keep Andal from getting too accustomed to a rhythm. He fumbles for the man’s hand and wraps it around the synthetic cock bobbing against the unforgiving plating of the Exo’s lower torso. Long fingers curl weakly but it will be enough combined with the hard flesh penetrating swollen lips and the sight of the gorgeously debauched man beneath him.

   “Nice places…make me…pay…while we’re in the field,” Andal mutters between slams of Cayde’s hips.

    “You should live with me.”

    “You live in…” the man bites his lip and finally bucks up to meet Cayde’s thrust, “…live in your ship!”

   “So we’ll put down a mattress.”

   “Cayde, I-” Andal tenses, throws his head back, and wails as a completely dry orgasm rips through him.

   The Exo shouts as the once weak grip around him tightens and thin jets of lubricant contribute to the milky mess painting Andal’s lower half. Cayde's face digs into the space between neck and shoulder, letting the scent of salt flood his sensors, and he drags both hands through human seed and Exo lube with a satisfied growl. That’s it. Everything the both of them have to give. A rumble wells up in Cayde’s chest and he drags his face against Andal’s jaw as he wrestles himself under enough control to ask if he can be the one to clean them- after he tastes them.

    Andal’s warped door bulges with a flurry of insistent knocks. Sighing to the chipped ceiling, Andal lets his head fall off the edge of the bed before closing his eyes with no intentions of rising for a very long time. “Cayde, it’s your turn. And this time, put on some clothes before you open the door.”

 


	12. Trophies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this FOREVER. But since it didn't get used in the fanzine, I can finally post it!!!  
> warning for general body horror?

 

[The Shadow Thief (grimoire card)

"The Wolves have sent a mercenary to Luna. Taniks, the Scarred. He would steal from the Hive all they know. Would align the Fallen with the shadows. You will stop him... but he will rejoice in your interference. Embraces conflict does Taniks. Revels in the trophies he collects from all he defeats. End his games." - Variks, the Loyal]

 

[Cloak of Taniks (item description)

He of the endless troves of arms, and legs, and hearts, and lungs, and…]

 

 

   The last Vandal struggles but it’s crackling snarl is smothered by a gloved hand, then by ether building up in its throat when Cayde-6 twists his knife just so. Four arms twitch one last time before sliding away. Cayde lowers the body gently, not for the benefit of the Fallen but because the wet flop of another dead Vandal is sure to be dangerously loud in the otherwise hushed halls of the _Kaliks-Syn._

His Ghost hacks the door as Cayde drags the silenced guards away from their post and stuffs the bodies behind one of the Fallen munitions spheres lining the hall like orange boulders. The number of limp limbs make it something of a chore. Maybe brief weeks as the new Hunter Vanguard have already thrown Cayde off his game. There’s a burning line where his ribs would be- the thrust of a shock blade that didn’t quite meet its mark- but the wound is negligible, hardly leaking. Cayde urges through their neural link for his Ghost to hurry as he watches the open hall behind them. This is the right door. He’s certain of it. It’s the only door under guard across the entire ketch, excluding the bridge.

   A seal hisses pressurized air and massive doors slide apart. Cayde slips inside with his companion hot on his heels. Ghost seals the door from the inside and darkness falls over them- not the kind that dampens Light of Guardians but the old-fashioned kind of darkness that smothers the senses and spurs the imagination in the creation of unseen horrors. Ghost hums as he sifts through simple systems of the control panel glowing gently beside the locked door. When pale, white runners spring up to push back the shadows, Cayde-6 slowly realizes his imagination hadn’t run nearly hard or far enough.

The space is cavernous; far larger than any of the other rooms they’ve stealthily sifted through aboard the ketch. The dim lighting barely reaches the banners that hang from the high ceiling in a tattered criss-crossing tapestry. Most are Fallen in design but none of the markings match the glyph on the side of the ship. Cayde’s Ghost drifts upward to examine the collection of house symbols but Cayde snaps his fingers and shakes his head. This isn’t the time or place for curious Ghosts to float beyond their Guardians’ protective reach. The Hunter’s silent order to descend increases urgently when his eyes adjust to space and he gets a better look at the ground floor. Running lights frame a central aisle and on either side stand rows of clear cases containing…pieces. Some things Cayde recognizes through the hazy gloom and thick barriers, like the pitted arm of a Hive Knight with a sword still in hand. Some things he doesn’t, like the tooth nearly as long as his leg or the pile of tentacles…tongues?...in the case next to it. Whatever they are and whatever they once belonged to, they are nothing but trophies now _._

   None of them are the one Cayde came for. Variks swore it would be here.

   He almost misses it. The tank at the end of the aisle is so large and the specimen inside so comparatively small that, at first, Cayde thinks it’s empty. But once he’s recognized the silhouette from across the long room, none of the other displays matter and Cayde’s feet lead him reluctantly down the morbid lane. The oversized cylinder must have been meant for something big, bigger than an Archon, far larger than the creature it holds; a display planned for one acquisition but given to another in a place of dubious honor.

   Andal Brask hangs inside suspended in pale, amber goo.

He’s dead. Cayde knew that. But seeing it makes it real. Cayde has yet to mourn- refused to do so without proof. Now he has it. The blackened remains of a Ghost ‘float’ over Andal’s shoulder and erase all doubt. Andal is gone. Irreparably.

   It should destroy Cayde, should make his knees buckle, send the Exo crumbling to the floor. Cayde is far too angry for any of that.

   There are no controls, no, buttons, and no release hatch scattered along the slightly raised dais. It’s just an oversized jar with one immaculately kept human specimen in full field gear. Even as his Ghost begins to scan for some weakness, Cayde kicks at the enclosure viciously. His heel bounces off and he staggers. Ghost shushes Guardian desperately but the Hunter regains his balance and strikes again. The Light-given strength that can crack a decent-sized tree does little more than slosh the liquid inside and send Andal’s limbs drifting with the change. It makes Cayde sick to his core. He rips his handcannon from his holster and lets the Traveler’s power roar through him. Three golden rounds scream into the tank at a careful angle. Each punches a hole before it drills into the floor. Jets of rank preservatives gush out in their wake.

_Loud._ Ghost warns across their bond. _Stupid._

   Ghost swirls around in a panic as the first sirens bellow. Cayde doesn’t care, refuses to worry further. Let the Fallen come. He could massacre every living thing on this ship now that he’s seen what they’ve done. He strikes with his boot again and what’s left of the glass around the three holes crumples and sags held only by a nearly invisible mesh that lines the glass. Dozens of streams spit from the fractures and splash against the Exo’s armor. Cayde holsters his gun and drives his fist through the weakened mess. The fist turns into a furious claw as the Hunter tears away mesh and glass until he finally creates a small opening. The surrounding glass cracks and bows from the force of surging liquid before great chunks break away and the small opening suddenly becomes a gaping doorway. Cayde staggers when the wave of amber preservatives hit his knees but holds onto the jagged edge of the glass even as it bites through his shredded gloves and into the joints of his fingers. Andal follows with the flow and Cayde catches the body mid-stream. Sopping wet and reeking of alien chemicals, Cayde clings to his fallen friend. He thanks the Traveler for small blessings because, even cracked and dented, Andal’s helmet is still securely fastened. Cayde is not quite ready for the final face-to-face.

   “I’ve got you,” Cayde whispers into the drooping head against his chest.

   The last of the tank empties in little rivers as the door behind them hisses open. The first Dreg in hesitates, confused by the splashes it makes. Cayde takes off its head with one well-placed shot. So falls the second and the third. Panicked clicks and growls in the doorway are drowned by a roar from the hall. If Cayde still had a heart, it would be thundering in anticipation.

   Taniks the Scarred bursts through the door in a writhing mess of limbs. A nightmare augmented by ether and metal. The mercenary’s crew scatter out of the way or suffer the consequences like the Dreg batted into the wall by a great, metal hand. Rage simmers in every inch of the massive Fallen; rage for Cayde’s impudence in trespassing aboard the _Kaliks-Syn_ , the murder of Taniks’ crew, but mostly for the violation of his trove. A Vandal raises its wire rifle and Taniks stomps the creature into the ground before snarling at the surrounding troops. A primed scorch cannon rests in Taniks’ hand but even he doesn’t fire. Cayde chuckles to himself when the reason becomes apparent. Taniks the Proud won’t risk ruining his trophies. The mercenary spits something garbled and violent sounding in Cayde’s direction as his troops throw down their ranged weapons and rush for the dais. Ghost attempts to translate from his hiding place behind Cayde’s shoulder but the Hunter shakes his head.

   “I don’t care what it says.” Cayde guns down the two fastest Fallen, stows his handcannon with an easy confidence, and shoots Taniks the Scarred a single verticle finger. “Translate this and take us away, Ghost.”

   Ghost growls his best impression of the Fallen language and hastily begins to transmat the three of them away in a shower of blue. He may not be the one to do it, but Cayde allows himself to retreat with the satisfaction of knowing eventually some Guardian will put an end to Tanik’s life. For now, Cayde hoists Andal’s weight against his chest and holds tight for transmat.

   “Don’t worry. I’m bringing you home.”

 


	13. Devotion 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a time skip and a continuation of the Devotion drabble. not fully edited but I just wrote eight pages of porn, I think you'll forgive me a few errors until I get back to hunting them.
> 
> Rated for mature eyeballs  
> Explicit sex, vague mentions of trauma, love confessions

   “Would…”

   Cayde jerks up and away from his book but Andal stops speaking just as abruptly as he started and stands looking incredibly lost in the doorway separating sleeping quarters from the rest of his City apartment. For a moment, Cayde wonders if the lamp by his head has disturbed the other Hunter’s sleep but there’s no way a little artificial light could put such a look of trepidation on that gorgeous face. Cayde sinks a little deeper into the couch made up for his overnight stay, leans back into the guest pillow that might as well have his name embroidered on it by now, and waits for Andal to find his voice again. 

   “Would you mind if we…” Dark brows meet in a distressed scrunch in the middle of his forehead and the words that were meant to follow bounce around a tight jaw before being swallowed.

   From half a room away, Cayde has a very good hunch as to what Andal needs but can’t quite ask for. He catches himself staring at the slightly displaced fabric between the human’s legs for just a second before the Exo forces himself to look away and find a safe place to stash his book. Paperback tucked away under the edge of the couch, Cayde shuffles over to press his flank tightly against the back of the couch and soundlessly pats the narrow strip of cushion next to his hip. Andal approaches easily enough, leaving his shadowed bedroom behind with smooth steps, but it seems there’s one more invisible hurdle that forces Andal to hesitate next to the pair of metal feet crossed and dangling over the furniture’s end. Perhaps Cayde has assumed too much from an old pair of loose pants. After nearly a year of gently chipping through walls erected by past trauma, late night chats are still more common than nights seeking physical comforts.

   “Ah. Sorry,” Cayde mutters, ashamed of his initial assumption when Andal is hurting for something less carnal. “Here, let me give you some actual space.”

   The Exo shifts again, rising to elbows from his laid-back sprawl, as he fights to sit despite the counter efforts of sinking cushions and a pillow that seems determined to be under his hand at every opportunity.

   A palm to his chest halts the struggle completely before it gently pushes the Exo back into his recline. There’s a moment of trying to account for the warmth bleeding through his borrowed shirt, the blur of gray and white, and sudden extra dip of the center cushion. When Cayde finally processes all the information, he finds Andal straddling his thighs with less than an inch of airspace between their lower halves. Maybe this _is_ a physical night. Cayde’s systems rise to the occasion with an embarrassingly loud hum- not much different then the warm buzz of a jumpship powering up. Andal’s responding smile is knowing but not smug and just that tiny lift to shapely lips floods Cayde with relief. Gone is the tension that had made the human seem so small and, now that they’re within proper scrutinizing distance and the tight glow of lamplight, Cayde notices several little things about his partner. Like the thin sheen of sweat glossing Andal’s neck and the elastic band barely holding on near the end of a kinked ponytail. The human did not wake from just any old sleep.

   Andal Brask has had his fair share of nightmares and more than once allowed Cayde to help him kiss and pet their way past darker memories. The Exo is careful to ease them in that direction at an unthreatening pace and with a soft request for permission. “Can I touch you?”

   The human laughs but it’s almost a sigh; something fond and exasperated and grateful all at once. They both know Cayde has earned a fair bit of leeway when it comes to their physical relationship and the initiation of intimate contact but it’s obvious how much Andal appreciates the simple query. The elder Hunter nods as he curls forward to ease the Exo’s reach. Metal fingers stroke along a bearded jaw and even smooth back the unruly curtain of hair making a break from Andal’s ponytail. The man melts into Cayde’s touch- irises glazing like tempered chocolate- and, somewhere under a swell of affection, Cayde feels a familiar prickle of anger for all the things that have ever harmed such a precious man.

   “Did you have a nightmare?” Cayde whispers as his other hand weaves with the human’s counterpart planted by the Exo’s knee.

   Surprisingly, Andal shakes his head in negative. “A good one this time.”

   Cayde’s brow rises. He could watch that minor shift in Andal’s eyes all night. That soft, silent affection turned sharp with need. Traveler above, Cayde could watch that all day _and_ night. “A…a good one? You mean a dream?”

   Gently, Andal guides both of Cayde’s hands to the human’s thighs. They are very close to the edge of previously established limits and the Exo automatically sets his thumbs to stroking smooth circles through pants so thin he can almost imagine he’s stroking bare skin.

   “Very good,” Andal confirms as he finally settles his weight squarely across sharp hips. With a teasing twist of his lips, he adds, “You were there.”

   “Yeah?” Cayde can’t help but sound awed. To be in Andal’s dreams…

   Andal nods, his smile turning achingly tender. Long, tan fingers slip hesitantly under the hem of Cayde’s shirt to stretch and spread like curious garden snakes beneath the slate blue cotton. Between the sight and the heat creeping over his armored plating, Cayde is mesmerized and that’s the excuse he stands by when he damn near flinches at Andal’s next words.

   “Can we take this off?”

   It takes the span of a few optical resets to accept this brave new world where he is allowed to be anything less than fully-clothed in his lover’s presence. When he does accept the new order, it’s with barely contained gusto that clearly startles Andal as sitting upright at such eager speeds nearly topples the human from his perch. No sooner is the shirt wrestled over the dual obstacles of jutting chin and protruding horn, then there are two hands clutching desperately at the hard planes of Cayde’s chest while a terrified gasp cuts through the room.

   “Wait!”

   Cayde freezes with his arms still bound up in twisted cotton and the Exo’s voicebox seizes in shame. There’s a tremble to the ten digits that unfurl from the corners of his armor in uncertain stages.

   “Sorry,” the Exo rasps. He knows better! He knows exactly the kinds of memories that resurface when he pushes too hard and too fast and he can see Andal’s barely suppressed urge to escape written in all the space suddenly between them. “Sorry. Are you ok?”

   Andal doesn’t nod instantly and Cayde hates himself for that. The human’s pulse is visible in the throb of his neck and dark eyes are screwed shut.

   “I’m fine,” he asserts even though the pinch in his brow tells a different story. “Just…not so fast, ok?”

   “Ok,” Cayde whispers and waits for Andal to meet his gaze again before reassuring. “Ok. Slow and steady. I can do that.”

   Though slipping the shirt from his arms suddenly becomes a near Herculean task as Cayde shifts as gently as possible beneath the other man.

   “Actually, could you…”

   The pressure of flesh fingers is barely strong enough to be a suggestion and yet Cayde eagerly complies as Andal guides him to lie down again. This leaves the Exo’s arms tangled in cotton, elbow to wrist, and hanging over the arm of the couch in a way that’s not entirely comfortable. But when Andal quietly asks if it’s acceptable, Cayde does not hesitate to agree. It seems to be just the amount of control the human needs to ease his halting hands back into timid explorers. And being restrained, however willingly, is…kind of ridiculously hot if Cayde’s being honest.

   Andal doesn’t move much more than the curious brush of fingers but his eyes sweep over the exposed plating and connective silicone of Cayde’s torso the same way the Hunter used to take in new landscapes. It’s not the first time he’s seen these particular peaks and valleys. Years of close quarters living on cramped ships and in sweltering jungles mid-mission means Andal and Cayde have both seen each other in various stages of undress but this is different; in the spirit of fun, not necessity and Cayde relishes in the long, appreciative look he receives. Andal settles back, snags a white hem between fingers and thumbs, and whips his shirt over his head like he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve from one second to the next. Cayde fists the shirt binding his own arms and makes it his aid in not reaching out to touch as dark skin stretches over pecks and ribs…and lower. Oh, Traveler’s Light, those drawstring pants are riding low. Cayde’s body is thrumming. He cuts feed to his voicebox before he can make the shamefully desperate noise echoing in his head. His hips seem to ache- the impulse to thrust up queuing and cancelling so rapidly that it’s creating misfires that Cayde’s Exo brain read as pain. And they’ve only lost shirts! Andal leans in, chest dragging against chest. This is absolutely the first time between them that so much skin has touched so much metal and Cayde’s environmental processors swim in their combined heat. The Exo’s fingers are digging into shirt and armrest by the time Andal finally kisses him.

   “I’ve died,” Cayde croaks after having just barely rebooted his voice. He doesn’t remember cutting off his optical feed too but rectifies the issue before Andal’s kiss cools from metal lips. “I don’t know where I’ve gone, but life can’t possibly be this perfect.”

   Andal’s laugh bubbles up but smothers out in a soft press of lips to Cayde’s cheek. Another kiss lands just to the left followed by another and another until a feathery line of tingling sensation traces the sharp plane that eventually breaks against the Exo’s flared nose which the human then graces with more affection before jumping to the Exo’s brow. Cayde does his best to shift his bound elbows out of the way so that Andal has plenty of room to continue. The man works past a prominent forehead and up the side of a horn that’s more decorative than functional but which still sends a shiver down the Exo’s spine. The kisses drop back down in a reverse path, landing again at the base of the blue horn, to the side of a cream forehead, but impatience finally gets the better of Cayde. He doesn’t wait for those lips to find their way back to his and instead intercepts them with a twist of his head. The breath that pops against Cayde’s lips might be another amused laugh but the Exo retreats a fraction of an inch before connecting their lips again and again- nuzzling and parting his own stiff plates in the best imitation of the desperate kisses he’s dying to give- and Andal’s laugh quickly turns breathless. Fingers slip over the Exo’s chest and behind his back to cradle a metal head and jaw before human lips are spreading over and over in eager reciprocation. This time, Cayde fails to stop the needy whine that seems to come all the way from the bottom of his tightly-curled toes.

   “This…this is ok?” Cayde questions shakily between kisses.

   Andal answers with a moan that vibrates over the roof of Cayde’s mouth when Andal’s tongue carefully slips in to map the back of Cayde’s lip plates.

   Even with the new pseudo-confirmation, Cayde sort of fudges his vow of restraint in the heat of the moment and arches up….and nearly collapses in bliss when Andal does not shy away but eagerly presses back against the crest of the Exo’s frame from collar to ankle. Even better when Andal trusts Cayde to balance his full weight while the man reaches up and works the stretched and worried shirt over Cayde’s elbows and drops it unceremoniously to the floor. Though now technically free, Cayde’s hands jerk then hover, afraid to move, until Andal leads one of them to the fluttering muscles encasing his ribs, back and down parallel to his spine, further still to the dip of a trim waist where their hands squeeze together. This much permission, granted so suddenly, burns away much of the doubt Cayde’s been harboring about this relationship- about his ability to please Andal and his own fears that maybe it was his desirability and not Andal’s trauma keeping them from more nights like this. Now that he’s finally been given the green light to touch and be touched, Cayde won’t stop until he’s loved every square inch of skin with eager fingers or until his partner asks him to stop. The Exo kneads gently at the flesh high on Andal’s hip in pure appreciation of how soft and warm skin is while the other hand finds the nape of Andal’s neck and gently encourages the man to keep kissing in the way that makes all Cayde’s expertly crafted software glitch and all his hardware melt into something that feels almost human again. Andal’s kisses lose a beat and slow while Cayde’s fingers curve and squeeze over every swell of muscle and follow each dip between. Soon, the human squirms against the Exo’s chest and his kisses lose their rhythm entirely while his tongue strains sloppily at the farthest reaches of Cayde’s mouth.

   The lines of Andal’s abdomen naturally lead mechanical fingers downward. A slight change of texture registers and Cayde very tentatively toys with the wisps a bit coarser than the loose strands of hair that catch against his face when Andal tears his mouth away and gasps into Cayde’s neck. The Exo doesn’t have to venture any lower than the soft waistband to know Andal’s sex is rigid behind thin cotton. Cayde can feel the man’s erection sliding heavy and low against his hip. Andal can undoubtedly feel the twin facsimile between Cayde’s legs twitching at each uneven exhale the human peppers against the Exo’s jaw. They’re both so hard, Andal’s already half-drunk on kisses, it’s all so _good_ , and Cayde is trying to feel and remember it all at once in case this is the last they have of each other, in case the walls spring back up and steal Andal away again.

  As they are, it seems things may have progressed too quickly and Cayde takes the quivering muscles under his palm and the mildly distressed grunting against his neck as a warning and gently smooths his hand back up to a slick chest. Andal groans a torn imitation of a laugh against the side of Cayde’s head, grabs the Exo’s hand in its saintly travel upward, and drags it right back down to rake through tight curls. Cayde jolts at the sheer unexpectedness of the guided tour south but watches the progress of their combined hands with rapt attention. They worm into Andal’s pants, clumsily catching on the waistband but not slowing until both metal and flesh fingers are past the barrier. Andal doesn’t pause more than a second. It’s not enough time for Cayde to quite realize what’s happening, certainly not enough time to allow Cayde to talk them both out of it. Andal chokes out a curse with his forehead pressed tightly to Cayde’s shoulder as they wrap two sets of fingers and palms around his cock and Cayde’s groan in Andal’s ear may be even louder. There isn’t much of an adjustment phase before they push and pull together, squeezing over the length that screams _soft_ and _slick_ and _hot_ through the sensors in the Exo’s palm.

   “Wow,” Cayde marvels as he nuzzles into sleep-mussed hair. “Just…wow!”

   “Yeah,” Andal agrees with a breathy exhale. “ _Wow_.”

   They haven’t just crossed a few barriers tonight. They’ve blasted through them with all the grace of a Cabal Interceptor.

   Andal shakes from the tip of his head, where Cayde gapes in wonder, to the tip of their scrambling toes as the Hunters try to wriggle even closer to one another within the confines of a narrow couch. Cayde doesn’t have the wherewithal to muster even a joking ‘ouch’ when blunt nails begin to dig into some of the softer connections at the base of his neck. Too soon, hands aren’t enough and the human begins rocking his hips, frantically pumping into their fists while broken breaths and moans bounce past shiny lips. Cayde presses into the top of his partner’s head and tightens his hold in the loose hair of at the human’s nape just enough to hear Andal’s breath stutter again and to remind the Exo that this is real.

   “I want this. I want you to have this,” Cayde whispers fierce affirmation into wild hair. “Want you to feel amazing. Whatever you need, Andal, I’ll give it to you.”

   The man shudders and thrusts once more hard into their combined hands before tightening their tandem grip to what Cayde fears is an almost dangerous level of constriction. Andal grinds into the vice once then twice as he huffs and pants like he’s just outrun an entire swarm of thralls but then he stills almost completely, aside from a few full-body quakes, with his face tucked against the Exo’s collar. But there is no glorious mess. Cayde’s fingers catalog nothing more than the buildup of a little oozing pre-ejaculate. Nothing to signal a true release. Andal miraculously, and almost cruelly, shakes off what Cayde thought would be the orgasm to grace his every dirty daydream from here on out and the human angles his hips away.

   Old concerns rear their head and Cayde’s non-existent stomach drops. “Andal, you-“

   “Heh,” the man huffs and then swallows in the space of the same ragged breath. He swallows again and kisses clumsily at whatever protruding metal piece is nearest. “It’s ok. We’re good. It’s been a while. I…forgot how good this could be. You-“

   Cayde delights in Andal’s sudden, almost astonished laugh.

  “You almost got me there!” The man admits with another fond chuckle before nuzzling almost coyly into the crook of Cayde’s neck, “But I…don’t want to lose it just yet.”

   Any dormant cooling components Cayde might have had are now up and running at full capacity and, even though Andal’s face is too close to look down and actually see, the Exo can detect exactly where an overly flushed cheek rests.

   “You’re the boss,” Cayde promises.

   Andal sighs what sounds an awful lot like contentment before he finally eases the restricting grip of his hand around Cayde’s allowing metal to relax in turn. However, Andal does not let the Exo’s fingers drift away. Instead he coaxes hard digits into a loose circle around his erection and rolls his hips in demonstration. Cayde willing follows Andal’s lead, taking over the motion and allowing Andal to relax into the new, gentle pace they’ve set- much more teasing than the frenzy of before.

   “Keep going. Just like this,” Andal instructs with almost more plea than authority.

   Either way, Cayde takes it as law and continues the slow and steady rhythm even when Andal’s hand uncurls from metal fingers and withdraws. The flesh against Cayde’s palm is swollen and blazing and when he sneaks in a swipe of his thumb over the head, the wetness there is enough to keep steel sliding smoothly over sensitive skin. The Exo continues his work intently but can’t help but blink down when calloused, human skin forces it’s way ungracefully into Cayde’s pants to find an answering desperation. His mind goes blank for a second only to resume function with numerous variations of the same thought.

    _‘He’s touching me! He’s touching me? Andal’s touching me! Thank the Light, he’s touching me!’_

   The first hints of exploration are thoughtful- fingertips barely connecting as they map Cayde from base to tip. Andal feels his way around the smooth curve of the head and down the silicone shaft. When fingers squeeze just a little tighter, Cayde knows Andal is pondering the interlocking plates beneath the soft material that makes the Exo more or less safely ‘human compatible.’

   “You’re so hard for me.”

   Cayde wants to say Andal really has no idea how long he’s carried both the metaphorical and literal boner for his closest friend but, instead, Cayde tosses his head over the arm of the couch and barks a static-laced groan at the ceiling. Andal is skilled and anything but shy now that he seems comfortable with what he’s working with. And, oh, how he works Cayde beautifully with long, firm strokes and a little twist of the wrist at the top. The Exo’s legs twitch and fall open of their own accord. Andal slides between them. A quick rearrangement of crossing arms and then they’re fondling and caressing together- knuckles brushing beneath two different fabrics anytime one or the other falter in pace.

   “Thank you. You feel so good,” Cayde marvels as he drags his head off the armrest to watch the dance of their fingers below. “Thank you.”

   The Exo nuzzles into his partner’s head and continues to whisper his gratitude between the glitches sneaking in to steal his voice.  Andal tries to shake his head as if to refuse the sentiment but Cayde is having none of it and changes up his game. He cups Andal’s cock, metal hand between swollen erection and belly, and arches his own hips up ever so slightly until they can finally grind against each other. Cayde splays his fingers on either side of Andal’s dick and careful lines them up so that each thrust of hips finds them rubbing aching needs together.

   “So good,” Cayde croons.

   Andal whimpers, his shoulders shake and dip and obscure Cayde’s view of the glossy, pink head that peaks out beneath his palm every time he strokes down the human’s length. Andal, who was already so close a minute ago, is helplessly beyond keeping a rhythm to his own handjob. Cayde’s left hand finally abandons its post curled in Andal’s hair to reach down and coax floundering digits out of the way. Andal braces himself against the shifting cushion by Cayde’s elbows instead and lets the Exo jerk the both of them off together. Cayde manages to shimmy down two waistbands until human and synthetic cocks finally drool and slide against each other with nothing between and he wraps the same hand around the back of Andal’s thigh to keep the writhing man close.

   "Perfect. You're perfect." It’s hard to say when Cayde picked up the pace but he’s working them with a vigor that eclipses what almost did the human in the first time and Cayde is seconds away from hitting that peak now. “Oh! Oh, Andal. You feel so good. Let me feel you come. Pease, I want to feel you.”

   He doesn’t care that he’s babbling. Not when Andal is quaking and crying out, hands fisting the cushion on either side so hard that Cayde notices the foam bunching up around his bouncing arms.

   “Cayde! Ah…oh! Oh, FUCK! Cayde!”

   Finally, it happens. Andal’s cock jerks against silicone and the first thick rope of come spurts across blue plating. Cayde groans and works his fist faster. Sweaty palms clutch at Cayde’s shoulders and black hair flies when Andal tosses back his head and chokes on a scream.

   “Yes!” Cayde jabbers. “Yes, yes, yes. Come on. Let it go.”

    Andal gasps as his hips snap forward to paint Cayde’s abdomen with two more, wobbly white lines and then the Exo is right there too- curling toward Andal and spitting static as his cock erupts in viscous globs that coat both their bellies and groins with an inhuman glow. They rut against each other, hand almost forgotten until Andal’s cock has spent its last streak and the human collapses atop Cayde’s chest with the shakiest of moans. Only then do hips begin to slow. Cayde squeezes carefully and milks them together to ensure there’s absolutely nothing held back. When Andal’s soft moans turn into weak grunts, Cayde stills his filthy hand and uses the reasonably clean one to gather his partner into the most sated of hugs.

   “Thank you.”

   The human hums from his resting place and shakes his head weakly as he worms his arms around his lover’s neck. “No. Thank you, Cayde. You’re so good to me.”

   A soft kiss to the underside of his chin has Cayde shivering and he responds with the first jumble of words to cross his mind. “Well, you deserve me.”

   Even he can hear how unfortunate that came out.

   The Exo let’s his head fall back against the armrest with a pained groan. “Ugh. No, that’s not what I meant!”

   Andal’s exhausted laugh rings out before Cayde can decide where his brain and his words went wrong and the human braces himself with a careful elbow on Cayde’s chest so he can look the Exo in the eye.

   “I hope I do deserve you,” Andal whispers in all sincerity, “because I know I’m lucky to have you, Cayde. I'm so happy that you're here with me.”

   For the first time Andal’s eyes are open and he’s not just looking at Cayde, he’s seeing Cayde: truly seeing him as someone who wants to be there, who would never willfully hurt or shame, who would do anything for Andal.

   “I love you.”

   And those are the words Cayde actually meant to say even if they spill out sounding a little stunned. Stunned not because he hasn't thought them a million times but because he never imagined he'd get to say them like this.

   Dark eyes drift closed and Andal’s head bobs, briefly overwhelmed, before the man reaches out and tilts Cayde’s chin down to lay a trembling kiss on metal lips.

   “I love you too.”

   With a billion words now crowding the tip of his non-existent tongue, Cayde decides it's better not to risk loosing his voice and sobbing in relief. Instead he squeezes his arms tighter around Andal who responds in kind before their mouths meet again. Cleanup and sleep can wait while they bask in each other surrounded by the rubble of Andal’s walls.

  


	14. Pictures of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet, mild, and awkward Cayde/Andal  
> Cayde asks a less than smooth but important question during the Dawning.
> 
> Part of the 12 Days of Destiny

     

   “Open it.”

   “Damnit, Cayde,” Andal sighs in a very familiar puff of breath and wags the wrapped bundle in his hand. “I swear we agreed no gifts!”

   “And that’s exactly how I knew this was going to be a surprise.”  Cayde flashes his partner a sunset grin and taps pointedly just above the bow that he handmade himself...which he made with an almost embarrassing amount of time and effort but his boyfriend doesn’t need to know that.

   Andal frowns and does that jerking shrug he only does when he’s really upset. “I’ve been so busy with Vanguard business, Cayde. That’s _why_ I asked for no gifts! I didn’t get you anything.”

   “I know. You weren’t supposed to,” the Exo rolls his eyes and scoops the present and Andal’s drooping hands back up from their exasperated flop at the human’s thighs. “But I had to give you this. Please, just open it.”

   The Hunter Vanguard shakes his head but it’s clear that Cayde has already won. Andal does a horrible job of pretending not to pout as he finally digs blunt nails under a taped seam. The sound of paper crinkling drowns out the little radio in the kitchen and Cayde leans over to the breezeway’s control panel and thumbs up the overhead brightness. They should be doing this on the couch or maybe in the bedroom but Cayde has waited far too long to not greet Andal the second he walked in the door of the Hunter Vanguard’s Tower home. Cayde whisks away the trashed wrappings and tosses them in the most general direction of a waste bin almost before Andal has wrestled if fully off his gift. The human’s disapproving but unsurprised sputter as the litter bounces on the kitchen floor is a step in a better direction. The unwrapped gift doesn’t look like much in the man’s hands. The leather is a good quality but there’s no decoration, no scrollwork or text or anything else for that matter to identify the thin, black folder for what it really is. Andal raises a single brow as he turns it over in inspection.

   Cayde used to think that ‘butterflies in your tummy’ nonsense was a completely organic experience. When Andal finally cracks open the folder to look inside, metaphorical fluttery bastards prove they’re not limited to flesh and blood. The Exo squashes them down with a vicious force of will and the surety of several days worth of personal pep talks.

   “Is this…” Andal’s face rises and falls in surprise and a grin stretches pretty lips as recognition settles, “Is this our first kiss?”

   Cayde tips black leather to view the enclosed photograph upside down as if he didn’t know there was an intimate image of the two Hunters awkwardly lip-locked. It's not a great photo. In it, Andal looks startled- his back ramrod straight, eyes crossed, and hands just seconds from pushing Cayde away. Cayde's own hands are hovering near Andal's hips, afraid to touch anything but so clearly wanting to. It's not even a good picture. Definitely tips into cringe territory. But it's them and it's honest. Cayde whistles in approval. That gets a chuckle and an even wider smile out of Andal.

   “Would you look at that?” Cayde murmurs. He doesn’t try particularly hard to feign surprise. “I guess somebody’s Ghost is quite the photographer.”

   “Your Ghost took this?” A fit of giggles bubble just beneath Andal’s question and Cayde wants to set them free and keep dark eyes sparkling as they flit between the horridly beautiful details of the picture.

   “Yours actually,” Cayde corrects and then laughs at the surprise written across the human’s face. “She was incredibly helpful. Even picked the shot.”

   Andal’s Ghost senses her Guardian’s puzzlement and materializes over Andal’s shoulder to bob in a sort of shrug.

   “Thanks again for helping.” Cayde offers his open hand up high and Andal’s Ghost butts a nub against the Exo’s palm.

   “Ah, I see. Co-conspirators.” Andal narrows his eyes and his two closest companions in mock wariness but he can’t hide his twitching smile. "Thank you both. I love it"

   Cayde can’t resist those lips anymore and leans in for a quick peck of a kiss. It’s intoxicating the way Andal’s face lights up, nothing like the picture, and Cayde hopes Andal’s Ghost is catching even this exchange. Someday they’ll walk through all the images the little companion has hoarded and relive their time together from the beginning- from that first embarrasing kiss in a quiet corner of the Tower’s hanger. The kiss Cayde had tried to pass off as a joke until the very moment Andal had pulled him in for their second kiss.

   “What goes in the other spot?”

   The Exo has to blink away the spell of nostalgia to answer. How very obvious of Andal to notice the blank pocket opposite their first kiss. Just as Cayde planned. The butterflies are back for vengeance in this moment of truth but having the full blessing of Andal’s Ghost makes the rest of the plan a little easier to execute.

   “That’s…for a new memory,” the Exo fumbles in his side pocket and he silently curses whatever Bray scientist allowed metal fingers to be so vulnerable to human emotions. The urge to sink to one knee strikes but, by the time he’s finally snagged the metal band, Cayde’s legs have locked in panic so he remains standing and thrusts the ring out clamped between finger and thumb. “Will you…”

   Cayde demands a fiery death in particular for the butterfly that flaps up to block the Exo’s speaker and kill the big question.

    Damn. He should have kneeled. Should have left the ring in its box. Should have written out his words. Should have practiced a couple times. Should have waited. Should have-

   “Hell,” the Exo groans and slaps a palm over his eyes.

   Before he can sheepishly ask to try again, the ring is snagged from his fingers and Cayde staggers under the weight of an embrace that is part hug and part tackle.

   “Yes!” Andal almost growls against the Exo’s cheek. “Yes, you beautiful dummy!”

   Cayde can’t find the indignation to huff. He tightly wraps his arms around his fiancé instead and mutters relief into the man’s hood, “Oh, thank the Traveler.”

   Overhead, the central light of Andal’s Ghost blinks in rapid succession as she preserves the triumphant moment and the Exo offers a thumbs-up that he’s sure will make Andal laugh when they see it beside their first kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [visit me on tumblr? :D](https://fox-fic-and-ink.tumblr.com/)


	15. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love thinking of ways their first kiss might go differently than planned.  
> Rated G for romantic mouth smooshing

   “Are you going to kiss me?”

Cayde flinches but manages to keep his jaw from falling into the dirt as he glances to the Hunter standing next to him.

Andal chuckles at the silent horror written all over the Exo’s body. The human tries to hide a radiant smile behind gloved hands but the damage to Cayde’s ego has already been done.

“…No,” Cayde snaps defensively. Far too defensively. Far too late.

“Are you sure?” Andal rubs his cheeks as if it physically hurts to temper his sly smile. The sparkle in dark eyes is almost obscene as he whispers, “’cause this sure looks like the perfect place for a first kiss.”

The sun has almost set now. Pink and orange mingle with the purples and blues of a watercolor sky. Tall field grass stretches to the horizon and is sprinkled with the glow of lightning bugs mimicking the first stars overhead. The earth is warm and the breeze cool and Cayde and Andal are completely alone, bathed in hypnotic twilight. It is absolutely the perfect place for a first kiss. Except Andal’s gone and ruined the moment by calling Cayde out on the plan!

“Well,” Cayde huffs and crosses his arms, “maybe I was going to before someone opened his big mouth!”

Andal laughs again, long and loud and pure until he’s wiping tears from the corner of each eye. Cayde glares to the best of his ability and, when Andal catches sight of the scathing look, the human doubles over wheezing. “I’m sorry! Oh, Cayde, I’m so sorry.”

Weeks of scouting the perfect location, waiting to have Andal all to himself, waiting for the perfect weather, waiting for the perfect moment…and Andal saw through Cayde like he was made of glass. So much for the romance of surprise.

“Damn, I’m sorry,” Andal swears as he tries to collect himself. “This is gorgeous! I just-”

Cayde clamps the human’s flushed and teary face between his palms and drags Andal up until their lips finally meet. Andal remains unresponsive just long enough for Cayde to doubt the wisdom of smooching his best friend but then a shaky breath tickles the sensors lining Cayde’s lower lip.

“-just didn’t realize how crazy in love I am until this moment,” Andal finishes in startled awe.

Human fingers frame the metal of Cayde’s jaw and, after another soft and slow kiss, Cayde has completely forgiven Andal.

 

  

 

  


	16. First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rated pg13 for the 'F' word and related themes *scandalized gasp*  
> One version of Cayde and Andal's first meeting. Probably won't be my only take on the idea.  
> This is just silly schmoop as I try to sneak back into writing.

   “Whatcha drinking, partner?”

   Cayde is mid-swig when the man walks up and settles an elbow on the bartop adjacent to space occupied by Cayde's own limbs. Cayde knew he was coming, boots having landed just heavy enough to broadcast his approach. The man is either a very bad Hunter or a very smart one who knows not to sneak up on a peer. Not that Cayde cares to discover which it is. He barely spares the man a glance. Human. Lean but with a strong build. Dark skin and darker eyes above a neat beard. Arguably attractive. It's a bit of a shame Cayde has to shut him down.

   “I’m good, stranger,” the Exo assures with just enough emphasis to show he’s no intention of becoming anything more.

   The man doesn’t take the hint and takes a seat instead, flipping his cape out of the way with a little flourish that seems to aim between suave and nonchalant but finds its mark at awkward and stilted. There’s something off about the guy. Something that gives the illusion of endless confidence on the outside while simultaneously cringing on the inside and damn if that doesn’t make Cayde just a tiny bit curious despite having already decided to swear off this unfolding situation. They’re not touching but the human is definitely in Cayde’s bubble when he leans closer with a little chuckle. “I reckon you must be doin’ better than ‘good’ if you can turn down a friendly drink.”

   Cayde tries not to be terribly obvious as he checks the man out a second time. There's humor in the twist of thin lips and a sharp intelligence in eyes so dark they appear black in the crappy bar lighting. Cayde wouldn’t mind knowing someone with a flirty smile and a set of eyes like that, but not like this. Not if it’s part of a farce. The Exo looks over his own shoulder at the group a few tables back watching the exchange with poorly hidden interest. The clustered group consists of men in various levels of gear, some still in full kit and others sporting only bits and pieces of armor as part of what any Guardian would recognize as a post-mission slump. Their mission seems to have been generally successful given the mood around the table but it’s obvious adrenaline still lingers in the tense angles of limbs and jittery flexing of weapon hands. Which means _this-_ the man and Cayde alone at the bar with what could barely be called adequate flirting- is the tension breaker. One playful yet embarrassing bet with the promise of one little victory, or at least the shared laugh of a denial, to ease the group back into the less deadly part of Guardian life.

   “What do you want?" Cayde asks, eyes already half dim in resignation but eager to end this without wasting too much more of his time.

   "Pardon my confusion but-"

   "Name? Camp coordinates? Tell me what it’ll take to satisfy your pack and I'll scribble something down for you. Then you can go back having won whatever bet and I can go back to my drink.”

   The human is quiet before shifting uneasily. He sits upright on the stool next to Cayde, retreating from the Exo's personal space.

   “Not falling for it?” he finally asks with a wry smile. Gone is the vague drawl.

   Cayde wishes he could sneer properly but it would probably be ruined by a disgustingly knowing smile anyway. “That cowboy shtick part of your usual routine or a condition of the bet?”

   “Bet,” the man admits instantly.

   “It’s bad.”

   The man barks out a laugh, tossing back his head. When the unexpectedly pleasant sound ends, the grimace Cayde suspected beneath the surface finally splays across the other Hunter’s face. “Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. And my usual's not much better if I'm honest.”

   Cayde drums his fingers on the counter while the human flags down the bartender and orders another round for Cayde and something small for himself.

   "For having to endure that," the man explains with a self-deprecating chuckle.

   Cayde considers before repositioning the new drink a bit closer, accepting it. He's failed to flirt more times than he'd admit even at gun point. It’s hard not to feel the prickle of camaraderie but it doesn’t take away the fact that he’s still likely the butt of a joke. There are plenty of other solo patrons in the bar, Guardian and not to chose from. Cayde’s not even the potential mark closest to this man’s pack. But Exo's are still relatively exotic. An interesting target for half-drunk bets. Cayde rescues the napkin from beneath his second round before it can get soggy and snags a pen from the cashier’s station just an arm’s reach behind the counter. “So whattaya want? A random set of letters or numbers?”

   “I’m supposed to ask if you wanna find someplace more private,” the man admits with blaring honesty.

   “To rob me or…”

   The man shakes his head with a crooked smile that does unfair things to certain parts of Cayde.

   Oh.

   Damn. So much for 'playful bet.'

   “Well, sorry about your luck, cowboy,” Cayde flicks the pen back over the bar and crumples the napkin beside his glass. “I don’t fuck strangers.”

   That’s not true. Cayde does not fuck strangers for bets. Or to be a novelty.

   The man doesn’t bat an eye at the Exo’s purposefully crude language. He props a dark cheek against his fist and sighs instead. “Me neither.”

   Cayde’s eyes narrow to uncharitable pinpricks of blue. “Then why are you still sitting here?”

   Blunt nails scratch lazily through that neatly trimmed beard. The man glances over at his group, a cautionary action, before leaning closer into Cayde’s space again. “Full disclosure: I was put up to this, but, now that I’m here, you are handsome…”

   Cayde cannot recall ever being complimented so blatantly. He stares at the man.

   “…and clever…” the man continues as if actively taking stock.

   Damn. Even with an incredulous twist, that’s an alluring smile.

   “I thought you couldn’t flirt,” Cayde points out in borderline accusation.

   “Well,” the man puffs an almost disbelieving breath, “you weren’t supposed to be charming.”

   Charming?  Charming is one of those words Cayde claims when he needs to talk his way out of trouble. It is not a word often applied to him by others. This human might be a little batty…or a little perfect. Damn. Cayde is starting to appreciate this stranger.

   “Would you like to go talk somewhere?”

   Like a trickle of cold water down his back, Cayde is jarred by the reminder that if they leave the bar together, this man’s wager will be won.

   The same realization crashes over the human in a guilt-inducing wave and he is quick to amend with a sheepish glance toward the still-waiting pack. “Nothing wrong with staying here, if this is what you feel comfortable with. But if this turns into a first date, I’d like it not be in a dive bar with...expectations hanging over us.”

   A bit of static catches in Cayde’s voicebox and comes out like a snort. “Optimistic, aren’t you?”

   “Generally.” He smiles brilliantly, lips sliding slowly over white and skin creasing at the edges of glittering eyes (brown, a deep brown with little flecks of copper Cayde can’t believe he’d missed before.) Damn. Just. Damn.

   After downing the rest of his drink, the Exo stuffs his crumpled napkin into his empty glass and stands. He straightens his armor and adjusts his cape and doesn't miss the way it draws the strangers eyes over his form. Well, if they're going to do this, they might as well do it right. "There's a spicy ramen shop a couple blocks south."

   "Oh?" One brow is raised high in genuine interest above what seems to be a permanent grin. “Do you like spicy ramen?"

   "You'll find out when you buy me a bowl."

   "Suppose so!" The man laughs and stands to offer Cayde a endearingly out of place, formal handshake. "I'm Andal Br-"

   "Uh uh!" Cayde cuts in with a wag of a finger. "Save it for the ramen shop, stranger."

   Even as the human withdraws his hand with a snicker and a subtle roll of those gorgeous eyes, Cayde has committed the name to two backup memory files.

   _Meet you soon, Andal._

 

 


	17. I Missed You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill from Tumblr.  
> "I missed you." With some Candal. Rated G for 'good golly, don't hate me for what I did here.'

“Andal?”

“Long time no see, eh?”

There isn’t much to see. Just a fuzzy impression of a thing, like a heat mirage without an image, so Cayde hasn’t the foggiest notion how he knows his old friend is with him. He just…knows

Then a whisper twists Cayde’s heart.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Cayde admits readily even though the words tangle a bit on the way out. “Are…are you…or am I…”

“Dead. We’re both dead, Cayde.”

“Oh. That…sucks?”

A laugh. Cayde can’t find the source by sound alone, but when he squints at the wobbling space in front of him, a wry smile blooms into existence- contrasting the emptiness around

“Well, it may be a little different from what you expected.” Andal runs a hand along the back of his neck and it’s only then that Cayde realizes the smile has grown a body. A gesture attached to a hand attached to an arm…It’s as if Andal’s shape builds itself with each detail Cayde recalls. “Turns out that ‘final’ death Guardians fuss about isn’t quite final in the way we understood it.”

“So I’m starting to notice. We’re…where exactly?”

There’s some Cheshire cat/Wonderland joke waiting to be made but the white expanse that surrounds them makes Cayde uncomfortable with it’s suggested endlessness.

“Inside the Traveler. At least, that’s what we think. Albios has some theories.”

“Crazy Al’s here!?” Cayde catches the flash of his own hand as he flails in surprise and ponders whether he had a body a moment ago or if Andal is somehow constructing him as well.

“Yup. Al, Eriana, Wei, Silimar, Skorri, Finnala, and every other Guardian before or after. Everyone’s here. Waiting.”

“For me?”

Andal’s nose twitches into place. “Yes, Cayde. Every Guardian who ever fell has been sitting on their hands waiting for you to show up and kick off the party.”

“Umm, wait. Are they really-”

“No, doofus!” 

Andal’s good-natured punch connects with Cayde’s shoulder and he certainly felt it even if it didn’t hurt.

“Cripes! You’d think the world revolved around one life.” Andal rolls his eyes. “No, it’s not you. We’re waiting for…ah, well, can’t rightly say we know what we’re waiting for. Just that we all do. You’ll feel it too, after you’ve been here a while. Cayde, there’s something coming and I think we all still have a part to play.”

Cayde nods, because just as Andal said, there is something- an inherit knowledge- in this place that now infects Cayde with the same understanding. “And until then?”

“Until then, I imagine you’ve got some pretty good stories to tell.” 

Andal slings his arm across Cayde’s shoulder’s as if they’ve been apart mere hours instead of the decades that came between. The limb is solid, warm and it feels right.

“In that case, I’ll start with a funny story about how I still owe Eris Morn a ship.”


	18. I'll Keep You Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr fluff/angst prompt. "I'll keep you warm." Rated G for 'Good Bros keep each other safe.'

 

 

   Before the Traveler worked it’s terraforming magic, summer nights on Mars could get as low as minus 100 degrees F.  Cayde knows this because his Ghost once lectured him on the dangers of exposure across the system after the ONE time Cayde accidentally froze to death too close to a polar cap. And while the Martian temperatures aren’t quite as insane post-Traveler voodoo, Cayde-6 can still hear the chatter of teeth all the way across the room.

   Cayde leaves his post without a second thought and curls up behind the shivering lump in the most sheltered corner of the abandoned lab they’ve claimed for camp tonight.

   “What are you doing?” Andal asks. But it sounds like he’s posing the question from atop a sparrow traveling over rocky terrain- voice bouncing with each shake of his body trying futilely to generate more heat.

   “You’re freezing,” Cayde points out in case Andal is too proud to admit it. “I’ll keep you warm.”

   “Don’t have to do that,” the human Hunter mumbles even as he snuggles backward against the Exo’s chest.

   “What kind of friend would I be if I let you turn into a meatsicle?”

   “Gross,” the man responds dryly.

   Cayde imagines the way Andal’s nose must be wrinkling under his helmet as the polished metal keeps frostbite at bay. The Exo pulls his cape across Brask’s body. “My Ghost is on watch. I got you.”

   It’s barely a whisper beneath the helmet, but Andal sighs and some of the tension leaves the tight coil of his body as his shivers begin to ease. “Thanks.”

   Cayde dips into the well of his own Light until solar energy flows through his frame offering a bit more comfort to the both of them. “Anytime. But, uh, maybe we don't tell everybody...”

   "What happens on Mars, stays on Mars."

 

 


End file.
